Chapter 10
Ten
“I’ve told you everything I can tell you.”
Those words Sarah had spoken last night stayed in his mind as he opened the door for Silverpine County sheriff, Wade Hollis. Sarah was still asleep, as far as Ryder knew. Sheriff Hollis—Wade—had come to see him personally. Ryder stepped outside and walked toward the shop.
Wade followed. “Ryder. What’s this about an intruder last night?”
On the walk, Ryder shared about the scuffle in the house that ended in his shop before the intruder escaped. Ryder had waited until this morning to make the call, deciding to mull everything over before committing to this endeavor with Sarah.
He was all in before he’d even decided.
“You should have called me last night,” Wade said.
“And get you out of bed? Everything’s the same this morning. I’m just reporting a break-in so you can make sure the community’s safe from a guy wearing all black, including a mask.”
“By community, you specifically mean your mother.”
“You know there was an intruder on her property yesterday that returned in the evening. I didn’t get a look. I can’t be sure it was the same person.”
“I sent a deputy to check through the night. Harlan slept in the barn.”
“Did he?” Ryder asked. So that’s why Wade sounded more irritated than usual.
Poor Harlan. Ryder suspected he had a crush on his mother too, or maybe it was her chicken pot pies or rhubarb streusel.
“Yep. She was good when we talked this morning at the diner.” Wade marched next to him, his heavy boots clomping along the rain-softened soil.
Ryder knew Wade would take personal care of his mother. Harlan too.
“What’s this about, Ryder? Your mother’s property, and now you had an actual break-in.”
“I’ve told you everything I can tell you.”
Ryder would tell the sheriff everything he could.
“I’m not really sure,” he said.
“Not really? You want to tell me what you mean?”
“You know the World War II bomber that was rumored to have crashed in the Cascades, holding Nazi gold all the way over here in the US of A?” Rumors included financing a Fourth Reich, or high-ranking Nazis fleeing Europe.
Right. In a US Army plane. Treasure hunters were also conspiracy theorists.
Because why not? Ryder stopped and turned to look at Wade.
“And then treasure hunters showed up until that rumor was dispelled.” The sheriff looked a little shell-shocked that Ryder had brought up the plane or that it had anything to do with . . . well, anything.
“Right. And it was really lost at sea.”
“I know the one, Ryder. Don’t keep me in suspense.” His look said, Get to the point.
“See. I found a piece of what I think was that plane on the mountain. That was three weeks ago. And then I talked to Vivian Knox.”
“Viv? What’s she got to do with this?”
“She runs the historical society.” Keep up. “She was going to dig up the history for me. Again, that was three weeks ago. I haven’t heard back.”
Wade’s frown was deep and concerned. “I don’t think you will. Her house has a For Sale sign out front. She moved last week.”
“What? How did that happen so fast? She’s been here fifty years, at least.”
“She’d been here longer than you are old.” Wade shoved his hands into his pockets, fingers brushing past the cuffs and radio clipped to his duty belt.
“Why all of a sudden?” Ryder asked.
“I couldn’t tell you. It’s a free country, Ryder.”
Indeed, it was. Ryder hadn’t wanted to bring Sarah into the mix with the sheriff. Not yet. “I think it’s interesting that I told her—she’s the only person I told—and then someone shows up and steals the part.”
“So you were robbed. You need to file a report downtown.”
Was the man really not tracking with this oddity? “Okay, Wade. I’ll do that.”
“Anything else you want to share?”
Not really. “I’m going to guide a woman up the mountain. She showed up asking about the plane too.”
Wade pursed his lips. Walked around the shop. Looking for clues? Evidence? Then he flicked his eyes to Ryder. “You think that’s wise?”
As if Ryder had never guided before. Or maybe Wade was referring to the fact that Ryder hadn’t guided anyone since his father died on the mountain. Well, in fact, he’d been back up on the trails—and off—preparing to take on Wade’s at-risk kids program by next spring.
Maybe not wise, but . . . “It’s necessary.”
Wade knew everything that Ryder could tell him with any confidence.
His side of the story, basically. Anything more would confuse the issue.
He wouldn’t intrude on Sarah’s right to report or not report that she’d been followed and almost taken last night.
Or that she knew a lot more than she had shared.
That was her business. Too much conversation could bog down the process and they’d miss their window before the weather turned, and really, they had probably already missed that window.
Still, there was always a chance to get in and out before things got snarly up on the mountain.
“The highway’s blocked off temporarily, in case you hadn’t already heard,” Wade said. “A crew’s up there now.”
Inside, Ryder groaned. That would be hard on the businesses during tourist season.
The sheriff left. Ryder returned to the house to face Sarah and learned she was a grumpy non-morning person.
An hour later, Ryder sat in his Chevy Silverado and steered down the long drive, taking Sarah to town to gather supplies for the trek up the mountain tomorrow.
The sky was clear, even over Blackspire Mountain with its stark silhouette etched against the morning light.
A few glaciers clung to the caldera that crowned the summit.
At just over nine thousand feet, Blackspire wasn’t the tallest peak in the Cascades.
Sarah appeared mesmerized as well, her eyes locked on the mountain. “It’s got a presence, doesn’t it?”
“It’s not Rainier,” he said.
“Doesn’t have to be. It’s got a way of holding its secrets close. You could even say it’s brooding.” Sarah covered a yawn.
“That’s poetic of you.”
“I intend to uncover those secrets.”
He just hoped she hadn’t stepped into something they couldn’t survive—because like it or not, he was in this with her now. Secrets aside, he knew better than most how fast things could turn. The weather, sure. But life too.
Maybe this was a bad idea. There was no maybe. This was a bad idea.
He hated to admit that he was rusty, especially after getting caught off guard by whoever had broken into his home, stolen the item, but he had no doubt the intruder had also been after Sarah Ellison, a woman who couldn’t tell him what was going on. A secret keeper.
“Ryder?”
He suddenly realized Sarah was talking to him. “Yeah?” Had he missed what else she said?
“You were a million miles away. I thought we were going to the outfitter’s, but you passed it.”
Had he? “Thanks for pointing that out.”
“Are you going to be this distracted the whole time? Because that could be dangerous for the both of us.”
He steered around the block and pulled up to the back of the establishment. Put the Silverado in park, turned off the ignition, then looked at Sarah.
“Oh. You didn’t pass it. You planned to park in the back.”
“Yes, but you’re right, I was distracted.”
He stared at her deep brown eyes and lost himself for another breath or two. Sarah could be a distraction all on her own, without all the added baggage and drama. “I won’t let that happen again.”
He got out and walked around the front of the vehicle to the back door of Pine and Peak Outfitters, for which he had a key, and she joined him. Staff and trusted guides always used the back entrance.
Ryder unlocked the door and held it for Sarah, allowing her to enter ahead of him. “You head to the coats section and find what you need while I gather the gear.”
She nodded. “Sounds like a plan.” Then she went straight for the coat section on the far side of the store.
He headed for the counter up front.
Sarah had no idea how focused, how intense, he could be, and she probably wouldn’t like it when she found out.
If she found out. She was wholly unprepared for what lay ahead, but then again, he was probably at least partially unprepared, based on the lack of information she’d shared.
He wished he had a clue what was really going on, but he suspected this could be bigger than he imagined.
It could be bigger than either of them could handle.
But never too big for Maisie Trent. He smiled at the feisty, pint-sized older woman who ran Pine and Peak with Cleo Taggart.
Co-owners. She was barely five feet tall, but everyone knew not to underestimate her.
She taught the local gun-safety and shooting classes and had a notebook brimming with certificates to prove her worth.
The scent of canvas and pine and old wool filled the air. Maisie came around the counter and smiled.
“Ryder, I hadn’t seen you in here for going on two years, and then you show up a few weeks ago, and here you are again today. I can’t tell you how much this warms my heart. What can I help you with?”
“I’m heading back up.”
“Once, a few years ago, you probably knew Blackspire’s moods better than anyone. Not saying you don’t now, but just in case, she’s been restless lately.”
He didn’t need to go up the mountain to notice.
Any kind of shifting and trembling in the region could be related to that ancient volcano, just one of many in the Cascade Range that was part of the Pacific Ring of Fire.
He moved toward the gear wall and scanned the shelves.
“I’m aiming for a spot above the tree line at about sixty-five hundred feet.
Maybe more. Unmarked and no trail. Could be avalanche debris where I’m headed. ”
Maisie arched a brow, and that alone made her slim, old figure seem formidable. “Should be about twelve to sixteen miles round trip. If you keep up a good pace, that’s ten to twelve hours up on the mountain—give or take.”
Ryder knew all this, but Maisie liked to talk it out to make sure that nothing was ever miscalculated. She probably saved a lot of lives. “Let’s get enough food and water for four days, maybe five.” He didn’t plan on staying that long.
She eyed him. “Weather’s going to turn.” She shook her head, probably knowing she couldn’t talk him out of it.
He didn’t want to add that his mysterious new friend was going too, hence double the food and water. “A glacier’s up that way. You need crampons and an ice ax?”
I hope not. “Set me up with a lighter set.” He had one at home already.
“I heard from Dean that”—she cleared her throat and gave him an apologetic look—“snowpack’s shallow, but it’s already turned icy at the ridgeline.”
Good old Dean. Which ridgeline of the many? “I know.” Just to make her feel appreciated, he added, “What’s he say about the weather?”
“The window is narrow, and I don’t pay it a lot of attention considering it can change fast even on a clear day.”
Ryder had been awake all night thinking through everything.
Including trying to reason with himself, talk himself out of it.
But the intruder in his home, the theft in his shop, might have sealed the deal for him.
That and Sarah Ellison’s need to answer the injustice of her brother’s death—and that resonated with Ryder and pinged something inside of him.
His father should still be alive, but he’d died.
Maybe it hadn’t been murder, but it felt wrong, all wrong.
He couldn’t go back and relive that day and change what happened, but at the very least, he could do this for Sarah.
The brass bell over the door jingled, letting Ryder know someone else had entered in the front, but he remained focused on Maisie and filling his list. She knew a good customer when she saw one and kept her focus on Ryder.
He smiled to himself. Sarah had disappeared in the apparel section, thickly packed with summer sales racks and winter coats.
The works. He’d told her to look for a nice warm jacket.
He only caught a glimpse of her brown hair as she held up a plain brown parka.
He wouldn’t have pegged her for that. Then again, if he knew anything about her, it was that she wanted to blend in, not come out dressed in a hot-pink outfit sure to draw attention.
Maisie still hovered and shuffled through flare kits hanging on the wall. “I heard the wind tore through the north slope. Heard it had a vendetta of some kind. So take a flare kit.” Maisie put that on the counter. “You’ve already got the insulated bivvy I sold you three weeks ago.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll need another.” He’d only take that if it was just him wanting to move fast. But he was going to need a tent too. Just one. He wanted to keep an eye on Sarah Ellison—for her own good. The tent he’d taken up three weeks ago had a rip in it.
Maisie worked to set him up with all the gear he’d need.
She’d created a pile of stuff on the counter and held a knowing smile. This woman loved outfitting people, especially when they paid cash. “You got your satellite comms?”
“I’ve got my inReach, and everything I need to charge and connect.”
He felt Sarah’s eyes on him and he glanced her way, then back to Maisie, who didn’t miss a thing but said nothing. She probably figured out that Sarah was going too. Ryder shouldn’t have brought her. Just trying not to start up the rumor mill in this small town. Probably too late for that.
At least Sarah kept her distance at the winter coat rack. He hoped they could find what she was looking for, but he doubted it would be that easy. If it was easy, the crashed plane would have already been found. After all, plenty had searched for the long-lost Nazi gold.
“Don’t forget the bear spray. Tallis came in the other day and reported a mama and two cubs spotted on Larch Run last week.” Maisie was still at his side, almost hovering, like she was protective. He had a mother, okay? One was enough.
“This isn’t my first climb, Maisie.”
“And I don’t want it to be the last.” Maisie gave him her best motherly outfitter stare-down.
See? There it was again. Ryder offered a friendly glower, if there was such a thing.
What was with all the questions and the concern about the mountain?
This was what he’d done his whole life. So what if he’d skipped a few years serving his country and then a couple more after Dad’s death?
He’d put it off for good reason. He hadn’t told anyone besides Maisie, who’d gotten him geared up, that he’d gone up a few weeks ago.
But maybe he should have so this wouldn’t be such a shocker and people wouldn’t think he was climbing again—despite swearing off the mountain—for this woman.
A feisty, beautiful, secretive woman who was running from danger. Or toward it. He hadn’t decided yet.